


Condemnable, You are Sinful

by Metal_Gear_XANA



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Character-centric, Gen, One-Shot, Post-Azure Moon, character piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22475134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metal_Gear_XANA/pseuds/Metal_Gear_XANA
Summary: Post-AM, one-shot, Edelgard-centric. Edelgard is used to being alone, having lost all her siblings and now being the only one left of the Hresvelg name. Sacrificing her humanity ensures she will not falter and be overwhelmed by dismay. Emotions are a hinderance that she wants to purge. But she is only human, with desires to not be alone or have her loved ones die.Yet as her fellow Eagles, her second family, die off one by one over the course of the war Edelgard finds herself alone again. Try as she must she cannot suppress her humanity or emotions. But she mustn't fail her goal, otherwise everything will be in vain. For everything, her siblings' death to create her to be the perfect weapon and the sacrifices made because of her war, to amount to nothing will finally break her.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & Black Eagles
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Condemnable, You are Sinful

Condemnable, You are Sinful

The first to die was Bernadetta.

At Gronder Field, a place that once held pleasant memories of friendly rivalries, where companions would smirk confidently as they mockingly proclaim how they’ll defeat their enemies, the bashful archer perished in flames atop the hill. Edelgard can still hear the din of Bernadetta’s screams in tune to the crackling fire. Ember from the flames had even brushed against the emperor’s armour and strands of white hair. The taste of fat lingered in her mouth throughout the battle. People from the Kingdom and Alliance screamed ‘monster’ when their enraged eyes caught sight of crimson and gold armour. Such remarks she is used to; it does not faze her, for she knows that she is the villain in many peoples’ stories. Spat out words mean nothing when she had witnessed the first of her friends to die.

She had not wanted it to come to this. It was a back-up plan if the enemies attained the ballista stationed on the hill. Bernadetta was informed of the plan, yet she still had decided to go with it. Frightened as she was she agreed, stating with a, as oxymoronic as it sounds, confident smile towards Edelgard. The image lingers with her like a parasite that refuses to abandon its host. ‘Everything will turn out fine; we have the advantage, right Edelgard?’. Such naivety… Those words now ring hollow in Edelgard’s ears.

Even victorious (could it be called that? None won…) the Black Eagles felt not a shred of relief or bombastic joy. There were tears from some, a couple that snapped in denial, and the rest remained silent. Yet Edelgard does not have the luxury to shed tears or properly mourn for her fallen friend. Crying vanquished when the last of her siblings fell. All she could do is soften her expression and purse her mouth, a pitiful method of expressing grief. An emperor cannot bear to show weakness, if be to keep morale high in the army. At best she can lay flowers upon Bernadetta’s grave. Can the body even be recovered? It would not be the first or the last to not be salvageable.

Salvaged… is that how she is viewing the death of a dear friend?

* * *

The second to die was Ferdinand.

Edelgard hadn’t even been there to witness his death. It startled her when those that survived brought forth the regretful news. Odd as the thought may be, even downright gullible, the emperor always assumed that Ferdinand would live and be by her side. His constant yammering of the duty of a noble to the people, his mellowed yet thoughtful advice, and those charming smiles whenever he tried to lighten the mood had constantly hanged over her as if he was a cloud. Now he’s dead, and the world is quieter. 

It had been a gloomy day for everyone in the Empire at the news of the prime minister’s passing. Thinking about it comparing Ferdinand to a cloud does not do him a service. He was like the sun that blessed all with its heavenly glow. Now the sun is gone, and storms of uncertainty and trepidation hang over Adrestia. Aside from the official funeral service, Edelgard found no time to pay respects to a dear advisor and friend. With how frightened her people are she had to remain poised, show them that she is unaffected, that his and others’ deaths are not in vain, and that the continuation of the war is just and with purpose.

Cruel as it may be she couldn’t grant her fellow Eagles the time to mourn for Ferdinand, not when they must all remain strong. Easier said than done, with how Caspar went on a rampage against the wooden dummies in the training grounds of the palace and how Dorothea isolated herself to cry in private.

“Mourning will not bring them to life,” Edelgard had spoken to her Eagles so bluntly that it even startled the bluntest person of all, Linhardt. “Such thoughts must be purged if we are to continue.”

Perhaps she was too blunt, seeing how many of the Eagles save for Hubert and Linhardt left with abhorrence glinted in their eyes. The healer’s expression hardened towards the emperor to express lackadaisical disappointment.

“You can allow them to feel remorseful,” Linhardt ridiculed. “They lost a friend.”

As has she, Edelgard thinks, yet does not voice it. Instead she indifferently dismisses him and plans the next course of action for the Empire.

Apathetic as it sounds she was more concerned about the Empire having lost the bridge to the Kingdom than Ferdinand’s death.

* * *

The next to die were Caspar and Linhardt.

When news was delivered to her, her eyes widened ever so slightly. Atop her throne she remained austere, eyes steely and frown pensive, seemingly unfazed by the death of not one but two friends. Perhaps she is growing accustomed to death, as horrifying and revolting as the concept may be. Is it a coping mechanism? Hardly: it is more so an apathetic response from her end. Dorothea and Petra were flabbergasted by her lack of reaction, ridiculing her for being so nonchalant about their deaths as if they were a minute issue. Their words did not sting; rather it infuriated the emperor as she cocked a white eyebrow at the two women before her throne.

What good does it do to be dismayed and melancholic every time a friend dies? Weeping will not end this war. Ending the war through soldiering on will prevent more deaths from occurring. Breaking down did not save her siblings. Surely Dorothea and Petra would have learnt this by now, and adapted to such harsh circumstances.

“What would you have me do? Succumb to sorrow and allow myself unfit to continue my goal?” Edelgard inquired with a jaded look in her lilac eyes.

“Be more human…” Dorothea responded rancorously and dryly with narrowed green eyes.

What a claim, one that on reflex made the pallor woman snort (in which Dorothea mistook as her brushing aside the issue.). “Being more human would have prevented me from starting this war years ago. Stopping now will make Caspar, Linhardt, Ferdinand and Bernadetta’s deaths in vain. Surely that is the last thing you two want?”

More accusations thrown towards her lack of empathy fell against deaf ears. It is the same routine that she has grown accustomed to; it is clockwork, predictable. Unfortunately unlike clockwork Edelgard cannot halt the handles to prevent this insufferable routine from repeating itself. She had voiced this disdain, much to the vehement chagrin of Dorothea. So cantankerous the brunette felt that she grabbed the emperor by the collar of her cloak to glare trenchantly down at her. Hubert, ever-faithful shadow, tried to pull the former songstress back with the assistance of Petra. But the woman did not budge so easily, appearing glued to the spot as she tightened her grip against Edelgard’s collar. Yet Edelgard returned the look with steely tartness in her eyes, a crevice forming on her mouth in disapproval.

“What has happened to you, Edie…?” Dorothea breathed out for Edelgard’s ears only.

Exposure and desensitisation to death of those closest to her happened.

* * *

The next to die was Hubert.

Is it selfish for Edelgard to admit that this death has so far has hit her the hardest? Can one compare the death of one friend to another so casually? Once again she did not witness a loved one die before her. Is this a blessing or a curse? Mayhap it is a blessing, considering that she can only maintain her emotions to a certain level. Loneliness is something she is far too used to: it is a part of her, like an organ is to its body. But she had shared that isolation with Hubert, the shadow by her side, her loyalest advisor… and her dearest friend. Yes not even the stoic emperor is capable of completely ridding emotions or ignoring the animalistic fear of winding up alone.

Edelgard bit her lips so badly that blood tasted against her tongue, a reminder that she is not beyond the boundaries of flesh and humanity. Try as she must and wish as she pleases she cannot rid emotions. It would be marvellous if she could, for it would allow her to continue and achieve her goal without the baggage of death grasping at her. Knowing that Dorothea and Petra are the only ones left hits Edelgard so hard that it makes her lethargic. There is this naïve part that craves and yearns that her remaining friends will survive, only for it to be melted away when reality grasps its vice-like grip against the emperor. Her empire is crumbling, her friends are dying, and her dream is becoming unobtainable. The greatest fear of all, none that can compare, is that all the deaths committed by her war will be in vain. Bernadetta, Ferdinand, Caspar, Linhardt, Hubert and the others whose names fade away like sand in the wind will be all on her.

Killing, something she has become so used to that she doesn’t think of it in the way people do not think to breathe, will once again haunt her. Loneliness will return to her. Such suffocating thoughts leave her breathless, her lungs craving for even an ounce of air to assure her that she is unfazed and has given up her humanity so nothing can ever hurt her again. Oh how foolish she is to think that she is immune to natural fears of losing loved ones and remaining alone.

Desperation pries her to abandon her self to achieve her goal through any means necessary. She can’t lose anyone again. She can’t be alone again. She can’t let people’s deaths be in vain for her to thrive anymore. If archaic magic is the answer, if she must deal with the very beings that ruined her, their precious weapon, then so be it.

_She must succeed. She must succeed. There is no choice… There never has been… _

* * *

Although her mind is corrupted, complementary of her leathery and disproportionate form, Edelgard still wonders about the condition of her two remaining friends.

When her mind is not plagued by the memories and emotions of Nemesis trying to possess her form she strains her hearing to make out the clash of steel and sizzle of magic. As a hegemon husk she can sense her enemies and strike them with magic. Although she wishes to go to her friends’ aid to ensure their safety, Nemesis keeps her halted in place. All she can do is wait, something that she has never been too fond of, when her imagination runs wild with the worse case scenarios. Whenever she waited she was always ‘rewarded’ with a corpse of her sibling(s) or friend(s), or news of death.

When the doors open to her chamber it is clear that Dorothea and Petra have been slain.

Everyone she cared about is dead.

She’s alone again.

Soon her chest started to heave. Some chocked sounds echoed from her. Chuckles escaped her black lips. Hands clenched so tightly that her ridiculously long fingers cut into her palms. Edelgard could not help but break into a fit of laughter. It boomed across the lifeless room, startling Dimitri and all who entered and gazed upon her nightmarish form. Tears pricked her red glowing pupils as she reared her head, her hoarse laughter showing no signs of faltering. By the Goddess she must look like she has completely lost it in front of everyone. Even when someone fired an arrow at her she ignored it as she brought her palms to clasp her face to hide the tears and swallow the chocked sobs.

First her siblings died from gruesome experiments. Then her fellow Black Eagles, her second family, died throughout the war. Now losing here her war is rendered unjust; innocents have died for nothing, all under her hand. This isn’t divine punishment. Such a concept faded away the moment her siblings perished besides her, their corpses eaten away by rats as a token of their sacrifice for the great endeavour to turn her into a weapon. There is a part of her that wants to lash out, but what is there to take her anger on but herself?

At least in this form, under Nemesis’ on-and-off control, she is numbed by her emotions. In human form she would have drowned in remorse, guilt, shame, a concoction of pessimistic thoughts and feelings. Masochistic as it may sound but there is this small part of her that is grateful for all the slicing, puncturing, and those using magic on her. These physical pains briefly distracts the overwhelming feeling of anguish that dips its finger into her mind to twirl and twirl to create the whirlpool of madness. 

Then she loses to the hero of this story: Dimitri.

Back in her form she is left kneeling, with the devastating reality check of her failures crushing down upon her. Her glazed eyes represent emptiness. Everything is her fault. Blood is on her hands and feet. Everyone is dead because of her. All for nothing. After years of suffering and planning for this war, after all the sacrifices made to push forward, after giving up most of her humanity… it was for nothing. There is nothing to live for. No one, not even the Goddess, can convince her to forgive herself. Condemnable, she is sinful; nothing can be atoned.

So it is relieving when Dimitri ends her. Piercing through her heart reminds her that she is human, not a god or monster that can achieve the impossible. It is a wake up call, convincing her at long last that there is nothing wrong in shedding emotions and being a person. Bleeding across the floor reveals her lifeless gaze staring back at her. Doubtless anyone waits for her beyond the grave. Regardless she no longer will she be alone again, nor will she face losing those she loved one more. 

When dead she feels nothing. 

* * *

**A/N: The Japanese Hegemon!Edelgard text imply that in that form she is being on-and-off possessed by Nemesis.**


End file.
